Lost my father.

Lost my dog.

I probably lost more of myself in that mix than I’ve yet begun to process.

Also lost a relationship, but not all losses are loss alone.

Still, the house is lonely, the halls all too quiet.

Perhaps most dangerous of all, I am left entirely to my own devices. That last bit has likely gone on long enough now, and I’d best seek safe harbour lest I be carried away in this self-made torrent.

Not tonight though. It’s the eve of a New Year, and tonight I am well into my cups, trying to reflect on a year best left in the distant rear-view.

We’ll see how far I make it.

Truth is, it’s not an endeavour I relish. I’d burn this year to the ground if given the chance, even if no other was promised.

Still, the next is assured. Fated. Unavoidable.

Will it be better?

Who can say?

But surely now, if faced with similar or worse, I have at least the freedom to react accordingly. To tear my beard and gnash my teeth. To shed my clothes and my name, flee the country, and start anew—distant, dissociated, detached, and terrible.

Yet worse is a hard thing to imagine, and there is still some far-flung hope for better times ahead.

No new me, mind you. The world would be lacking for it. A new world rather—or at least a new way of moving through the old one.

It’s not an impossible dream. There have been some small bits of hope…

My new job is satisfying. Gratifying even, and fun. It’s an opportunity to find new and exciting ways to make a difference, and it’s something I am happy.

‘Meaning Less’ was published this year—even if I took little joy from that accomplishment—and ‘Project: FearNaught’ draws closer to completion each day. These are both points of pride, to be sure.

Could there be a bit more encouragement on the way? I don’t know. Time will tell on that bit.

But it would not suffice to brush over the losses. They each need their time, and with the Jägermeister flowing now, I cannot imagine a time more fitting.

I can only start with Bogney. My dog. My little boy.

I’m not nearly drunk enough yet to touch on the loss of my father. I’m not sure my poor liver could take it.

Bogney was my best friend. My pride and joy. My furry little ball of comfort. He welcomed me home every day, and more often than not roused me with kisses to greet the sun together. He led me on adventures, walks, jogs, and chases. He taught me patience and he kept me honest.

He was a constant source of love, pride, happiness, and spontaneity in a life that was otherwise—by design—rather distant and predictable during that period.

He brought me surprises, affection, and a warm sense of companionship that I miss dearly every day.

I never tried to own a dog…

I wasn’t born with a dog, and I certainly didn’t achieve a dog in any real sense.

Nevertheless, a dog was thrust upon me. I took Bogney in at the end of a failing relationship. I resented the notion at first, but in no time, I loved the dog.

As a puppy, he destroyed two pairs of glasses, and a pair of decent headphones. He also managed to put a fang through my eyelid once when I yanked a bone away from him in jest. He was always the spirited type, and we made for fast friends.

I claimed him in the following breakup, and for 15 years, we were inseparable.

Then, we were separated. But it never started to feel like that, and it still hasn’t. I still reach for him when I wake, and my ears still search for the frantic patter of his paws charging to greet me when I come home from a long day.

They do not come.

They won’t again, and it fucking breaks me. There’s no drink strong enough, no vacation long enough. No amount of time that will suffice to bring back the peace of a single moment with that furry fellow. But I cannot turn back time, and it passes still, and with every second I realize more fully the extent of my losses.

The trend continues.

Another drink.

Another.

One more time if you’d be so kind, good sir.

This bar will be empty before I’m ever ready to finish this essay.

To finish it would be to face that things are finished.

I don’t have that strength.

Maybe next year.

Time will tell…

-Brad OH Inc.